Chapter 2 The Interview from Hell

The sun was too bright for a woman who hadn't slept a wink.

Elara smoothed the wrinkles out of her only professional outfit-a modest, navy-blue pencil skirt and a cream-colored blouse that had belonged to her mother.

She stood in the glass-and-steel lobby of Blackwood Industries, feeling like an ant about to be stepped on by a giant.

Just get through the interview, Elara, she told herself, clutching her resume until the paper crinkled. Get the sign-on bonus, find Mia, and go home. Last night was a fever dream. It didn't happen.

But every time she closed her eyes, she felt the phantom heat of those large hands on her waist. She could still taste the whiskey and the cold, sharp wind of the balcony.

"Miss Thorne? Mr. Blackwood will see you now."

The secretary's voice snapped her back to reality. Elara nodded, her throat dry, and followed the woman toward the top floor. The higher the elevator went, the more her stomach twisted.

The double doors to the CEO's office were made of heavy, dark oak. The secretary knocked once and ushered her in.

The office was massive, overlooking the entire city. A man sat behind a desk of polished obsidian, his back turned to her as he looked out at the skyline. He was wearing a charcoal suit today, the fabric hugging shoulders that Elara knew were broad and unyielding.

"Sit," he commanded.

The voice. That low, gravelly vibration sent a violent shiver down Elara's spine. Her knees turned to jelly as she sank into the velvet chair across from him.

"Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Blackwood," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm applying for the junior executive assistant position. I've managed the accounts for my family's-"

"I don't care about your accounts," he interrupted.

Slowly, the chair swiveled around.

Killian Blackwood looked even more dangerous in the light of day. His silver-grey eyes were cold, scanning her with a clinical intensity that made her feel naked. There was no sign of the hunger from the night before-only a chilling, icy composure.

He didn't speak. Instead, he reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a small, wooden object. He placed it on the desk and pushed it toward her with one long, elegant finger.

Elara's heart stopped. It was her grandfather's locket.

"You dropped this," he said, his voice a dangerous purr. "In my bedroom. Last night."

Elara felt the blood drain from her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

The "Ice King" leaned forward, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers. A dark, predatory smirk played on his lips.

"So, Elara Thorne from the countryside... Tell me. Was it your plan all along? To break into my suite, seduce me, and then show up here today playing the innocent job-seeker? It's a classic move. A bit cliché, don't you think?"

"It wasn't a plan!" Elara finally gasped out, her face burning with shame and anger. "I told you last night, it was a mistake! I was looking for my sister. I had no idea who you were!"

Killian rose from his chair, walking around the desk. He moved slowly, circling her like a shark. He stopped behind her, leaning down so his lips were inches from her ear-the same way they had been on the balcony.

"A mistake?" he whispered, his breath stirring her hair. "Then why didn't you stop me when I kissed you? You didn't taste like a woman making a mistake. You tasted like a woman who wanted to be claimed."

Elara spun her chair around to face him, her eyes flashing with defiance. "I want my locket back. And I want to leave. I clearly won't be getting the job."

"On the contrary," Killian said, straightening up and looking down at her with an unreadable expression.

"You're exactly what I need."

He walked back to his desk and tossed a thick folder toward her.

"My grandmother saw you on the security footage leaving my suite last night. She's convinced you're the 'secret lover' I've been hiding to avoid her arranged marriages. She's ecstatic. She's also the majority shareholder of this company."

Elara frowned, looking at the folder. "I don't understand."

"It's simple," Killian said, his voice turning cold again. "My grandmother's heart is failing. Her last wish is to see me married to a 'virtuous' girl. If I don't marry by the end of the month, she hands my board seat to my cousin-a man who will ruin this company."

He leaned over the desk, his eyes locking onto hers.

"Marry me, Elara. One year. We live together, we act the part in public, and in private, you stay out of my way. In exchange, I will pay off your family's debts and give you ten million dollars the day the divorce is finalized."

Elara stared at him, horrified and tempted all at once. "You want me to... to lie to an old woman? To be a fake bride?"

"I want you to be a business partner," Killian corrected.

He picked up the locket, dangling it just out of her reach. "The choice is yours. Go back to your farm and watch it burn... or sign the contract and become the most powerful woman in Oakhaven."

Elara looked at the locket, then at the man who held her future in his hands.

"And the... the kissing?" she whispered, her face heating up. "Does the contract include that?"

Killian's eyes darkened, a flash of that midnight hunger returning. "Only when we have an audience, Elara. Unless, of course... you find yourself begging for an encore."

Just as Elara reaches for the pen to sign her life away, the office door bursts open. A glamorous woman in a red dress stalks in-Vanessa, Killian's socialite ex-girlfriend.

"Killian, darling! Who is this... peasant in your office?"